Cowboy Like Me - (Finnick Odair)

Howdy From The Middle Of Nowhere

So much for a good night's sleep.

Jolene thought as she sneaked out through her bedroom window in the direction of the closest field. It was probably between five and six in the morning if the pale blue sky with it's vanishing stars and slowly rising sun was anything to go by. She really did tried to sleep, and for a while she succeeded, but shortly after her slumber was plagued by bad dreams of all the horrible scenarios that could unfold today, so she just gave up.

Pulling on one of her cardigans this time to protect herself from the morning cold, she strolled over the empty streets until she arrived at one of the fields. In the distance, she could see one of the farms, the one were her mother works. A line of huge wooden barns evenly spaced out containing part of all the livestock in Panem. Pigs, horses, cows, goats, sheeps, chickens... you name it. All perfectly secured by metal fences that run around the entire perimeter, successfully gatekeeping the animals within their designated space to prevent scapes or robberies. Robbery, better known in Jolene's house as what got her father killed.

She was still a baby when it happened, not even one year old yet. But she was hungry, they all were, and with just one person working to provide for a house of three, they didn't have enough money for... well, basically anything. Her parents could improvise by feeding off of edible plants and nuts that grew in the trees outlining the district, sometimes trading old clothes and trinkets for a piece of real food with the more generous merchants. However, the time came where their money and possessions ran out, and all that was left inside the house was their stomachs roaring with hunger. It was that day that Jolene's father decided that he'd be damned if he let his baby daughter die of malnutrition. As he tried to leave work at the end of the day with a bottle of milk hidden under his clothes, he didn't count with a peacekeeper intercepting his way just a few steps away from home. The man's horror was such as the white figure appeared in front of him that his grip on the bottle faltered, letting the stolen item fall to the floor and shatter at their feet. As the white substance, as clear as the uniforme of the man now violently restraining him, oozed away on the dirty ground, Jolene's father could only think that soon it would be the red blood of his deceased body wetting the pavement.

He wasn't killed on the spot, though. No, they arrested him for the night and then executed him in the public square the next morning in front of the whole town. Jolene's mother had to watch her husband get murdered in cold blood by a Capitol official who had the word "peace" as part of his job title. Her now fatherless child wrapped up in her arms and forever doomed to not remember the man who died trying to save her life.

As her fingers caressed the dew-soaked leaves that reached up her knees, Jolene willed her mind to remember the man. Something about him, anything. The shape of his nose, the sound of his voice, the pattern of his steps, the feeling of his presence. As usual, nothing came. They didn't have any photographs of him back home. These type of things were much too expensive and useless for people like her to spend money on. Anyway, the only person who probably even had the kind of money necessary to have their photo taken in District 10 was the mayor. So, whenever Jolene thought of her dad, absolutely no image would come to her mind.

Closing her eyes, concentrating only on the itchy feeling of the grass caressing her fingertips, the wind blowing her hair away from her face, the chickens getting up to sing the town awake, the sun rising in the horizon to paint the inside of her eyes orange and the single tear that rolled down her left cheek, Jolene felt like the only person in the world, standing in the middle of nowhere. District 10 had this very distinct characteristic of feeling separated from the rest of Panem. Maybe the farm life was just inherently dull and calm, which was ironic when talking about a place where people get publically executed, but there was still something special about it. Well, maybe "special" was not the best word for it, but no one could deny that entering District 10 was like crossing a portal to another dimension. A place from many centuries behind, away from everything you know. Ask anyone whose been there and they'll tell you, or, better yet, ask Ophelia Grimaldi.